


wilted flowers and faded photographs

by kocampo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (inarizaki wins against karasuno and has a match against kamomedai), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Gardener Suna Rintarou, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Photographer Suna Rintarou, Suna Rintarou-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26656903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kocampo/pseuds/kocampo
Summary: an abandoned botanical house, the inarizaki volleyball club, and sakusa kiyoomi as seen through the camera lens of suna rintarou
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Kita Shinsuke & Suna Rintarou, Sakusa Kiyoomi/Suna Rintarou
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [roxy mwa mwa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=roxy+mwa+mwa).



> written purely because there is no suna backstory or details about him and as a character he has less depth than a piece of art paper. was also written at 2am.

Suna Rintarou was nine the first time he held a camera, small hands unsteady as he poked and prodded at the different buttons. “Isn’t it uncomfortable holding it like this for such a long time?” he asked. The unfamiliar buttons rubbed uncomfortably at the bandaged scrape on his palm, and it stung.

His father chuckled, adjusting his grip gently so his small hands slotted into the spaces. “Hold it like that, Rin.”

A pout scrunched up his small face. “But even if it’s like this, isn’t it still hard?”

“Well, there are some things you just have to get used to. What seems hard will get easier if you do it over and over again.”

“... I don’t get it.”

“That’s okay. You have all the time in the world to understand, Rin.” Suna’s face relaxed from its pout as his father fondly ruffled his hair.

* * *

2012 brings a hot, sweltering summer to Hyogo, and Suna wants nothing more than to curl up beside the air conditioner and let himself freeze into a chilled chuupet stick but nooo, club activities went on, and captain hardass Kita Shinsuke was making them run drills in the heat. With an idea popping into his mind, he sped up, easily shaking off the twins having their own little race and rounding the corner before they could catch up. Suna runs blindly, hoping to get far enough away no one would look for him and just laze off in the heat. His foot catches on something. He falls flat on his face. Just before his nose meets the ground, he prays that his phone stays undamaged.

A curse slipping from his lips, he presses his hand to his stinging cheek as he looks back to what had tripped him up. It’s a thick, coiling vine with thin tendrils that curl up slightly at the end as if waving at him. Suna makes a rude gesture at it, turning around to see what kind of idiot homeowner would let vines grow to the extent of tripping people up.

The windows of the little house are fogged up, the colorful wallpaper cracked and fading. He wrinkles his nose at the disarray, and tentatively rings the doorbell, jumping back as a shrill bird screech rips through his eardrums. He flips off the doorbell this time and tries to pull open the door to no avail. 

About five minutes later (which felt like hours in the sun), he slams his weight into the door for the tenth time, and the door, seemingly tiring of Suna’s abuse, lets him in with a low groan. Suna practically runs into the house, sighing in relief to finally be out of the heat. He almost bumps right into the hanging sign, his hand carefully lifting it overhead. The sign was written in marker in overly cute, rounded handwriting, and faded with time, only the characters spelling “botanical garden” even close to recognizable. Suna lets go, watching the sign fall back into place with a squeak as he walks further into the house.

He pushes open the next door he comes upon easily, the heavy smell of soil hitting his nose. Plants cover almost every conceivable surface, and what wasn’t a plant was a book. Dust was everywhere, making Suna sneeze as he picks up a book at random, running his finger down the paperbound spine. “On the care and maintenance of _Tradescantia Zebrina_ ,” he reads aloud slowly. It was handwritten in the same cutesy, rounded characters from the sign, little doodles of the plant dotting the margins.

“What kind of person has enough time to write all these books by hand?” He wonders aloud, walking over to the full bookshelf and pulling out another book that seemed reluctant to come out, rustling and moving in his grip.

The source of the rustling is a stray bug. Suna’s deadpan expression twitches into one of distaste as he stares down the bug until it scuttles back into the bookshelf.

* * *

Over his years at Inarizaki, the abandoned house becomes a sort of sanctuary for him. Alone with the plants and the books, Suna finds they don’t judge or state or mockingly whisper about him. There is no one telling him to show a little more emotion, or put in a little more effort. Even with the dust and dirt, Suna can breathe freely in this house. He shows up with his camera on the weekends and takes pictures of the plants, and they might not reply when he tells them about his day, but they flourish under his care, and as he caresses the leaves of a flowering vine once on the brink of death, that alone is even better than if they could speak. 

The volleyball season is given new life come spring, and Suna dusts off his camera for more pictures of the nation’s second-ranked volleyball team. The gentle rustle of the hanging plants calms him as he edits a shot of the twins’ newest move — something about soul swaps. His fingers fly across the keys as his pictures become saturated with color and life. No one comes to visit the botanical garden, and even if Suna is alone, it’s never lonely. He’s talkative with the plants, keeping up a slow stream of chatter as he works his way through his gallery, occasionally asking the leafy shrub next to him for its opinion on an edit he made.

* * *

Standing on the court as Aran punches their way through the block to nationals is almost bittersweet for Suna. It’s only his second time, after all, and he can’t help but get caught up in the hype, even laughing at Atsumu’s bad jokes on the bus home. He rubs the calloused pads of his fingers on the shiny golden medal, just to make sure it was real. 

The exhilaration wears off when he steps into the botanical house, sloughing off as easily as a yellowed leaf falling from a tree by the time autumn has come. “We won the prefecture championships,” he says into the empty house. “We’re going to nationals.” It would be foolish of Suna to expect a response, but he’d like to think that the atmosphere changed slightly, the home responding to his words. 

“I’ll be away in Tokyo for a while, so I asked someone to take care of you guys while I'm gone. His name is Sakusa Kiyoomi. He’s a little… different, but I think you’ll be alright.” He doesn’t know how long he stays in the room after that, just letting his plants soak in the words as their soil soaks in water. The low sound of his slurping away at chuupet is the only thing filling the silence, and then his chewed nails scraping away at the bottom of the empty cardboard box. 

Wiping his hands on the fabric of his track pants, Suna squeezes the edge of the door frame as he walks out. Instinctively, he ducks under the squeaky sign, not letting himself look back. The moon is hanging high in the sky, wind rustling through the trees. His tears only fall as he steps over the threshold of his house.

* * *

Suna jumps, no, he _flies_ , Atsumu’s perfectly set ball arcing right in front of him. Three blockers loom in front of him making him grind his teeth. This spike has to count, the 34-35 seared on the backs of his eyelids... His remaining options are slipping away from him the more time he takes to think. He twists in midair, muscles burning as he searches for somewhere to send the ball. There. If he could just move a little bit more to the right, yeah, right there, where no receivers lie in wait-

It’s not enough.

It’s called out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might write a sakusa side story about why he didn't go to nationals if enough people want one


	2. Chapter 2

The whistle blows as Suna falls to his knees, his burning muscles ignored in favor of staring at the scoreboard as it flashes 34-36, in favor of Kamomedai. Someone’s hand lands on his shoulder, pulling him back up. He doesn’t even remember the trip back home. 

In the gym, tears are dripping down Suna’s face, his usual moue contorted with grief and guilt. Maybe if he had just scored that damn point or blocked one more spike, or something, then this wouldn’t be the send-off the third years would get.

Someone’s hand is cupping his face, wiping his tears. Suna blinks, rubbing his sore eyes. Oh. It’s Kita-san, as calm as always, his inscrutable expression unchanging. 

“It's okay to cry.” he murmurs softly. “But you didn’t do nothing wrong. We just weren’t the better team this time.”

Suna cries even harder, and Kita shushes him gently, holding him until his quiet wails subside. 

“I'm so sorry,” he chokes out. “I’m so sorry you’re leaving like this because of my mistake.” 

“S’nothing to be sorry for.” He doesn’t say anything else as he pulls a tissue out of his pocket.

Suna stares openly at Kita as he dabs at his red eyes. 

“Y’know, when we’re all out of high school and contributing to society, I’ll see ya playing on TV, in top form, and brag to everyone who can hear me that Suna Rintarou was my teammate, and he was the best teammate ya could ever have asked for.”

“So don’t cry. Ya have next year to beat Kamomedai and nationals, and so many more years after that for volleyball.” Kita crumples the tissue before standing up, squeezing Suna’s shoulder. “Come on now, I want to get a picture with the whole team before Akagi sneaks off again.”

Suna’s fingers are clumsy when he sets the ten-second timer. He’s never done this before. He sprints to pose beside the other second years as the camera shutter goes off, the Inarizaki volleyball team of 2012-2013 now forever immortalized in a single piece of paper.

* * *

  
Before the timeout ends, Suna looks at the picture in his wallet. Aran’s head is almost out of the frame, Osamu is slapping his twin’s back, and Atsumu is sticking his tongue out again. His lips twitch upwards into a smile, and he pulls out the picture to unfold and rest his eyes on the hidden part - his old captain Kita Shinsuke, golden eyes gleaming like he knew something you didn’t.

It’s a close game with the Schweiden Adlers, Ushijima being in top form, and Hoshiumi Kourai pulling out all the stops to turn the block to his advantage. By some stroke of luck, the first set went to the EJP Raijins, and they’re one point away from winning the third. Daishou takes a long drag from his water bottle and loudly ‘whispers’ something about Hoshiumi’s vertical, no doubt to get the smaller spiker riled up. It works, but barely, as the whistle blows and they walk back to their places, steam whistling from Hoshiumi’s nostrils as he prepares to serve. His jump floater is as nasty as it was in high school, the ball spinning in mid-air so much it almost made him dizzy to keep his eyes on it. Komori just barely saves the ball, dropping down to his chest. 

“Suna! Last!” Daishou yells as the ball arcs up in a perfect receive. 

Suna runs up to jump - and he switches direction ignoring the burning in his legs, running parallel to the net as the Adlers’ blockers try and fail to catch up. As much as he’d like to smash past that block, he’d also like to win. The ball slams deep into the Adlers’ backcourt, Kageyama trying and failing to save it. 

As his teammates celebrate around him, Suna turns to the cameras. _“I’ll make you proud, Kita-san. I’ll be a teammate you can really, truly brag about.”_

* * *

  
Suna yawns, stretching his arms out above his head as he ducks under the squeaky, dilapidated sign. “It’s been a while since I’ve come here. Has Sakusa been taking good care of you guys? I don’t care about his bendy wrists, I’ll beat him black and blue any day-” He chokes on his next words as he covers exactly what he was about to do under the guise of a coughing fit. He jumps back from Sakusa’s garden hose assault on his shoes, swallowing nervously at his deadpan stare. 

“Oh. Hey, Sakusa. Nice weather today, don’t you think?”

“Lovely day to have a funeral, yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wanted pro daishou and i will give myself pro daishou. here is the sakusa content because i'd feel bad if he was only mentioned. sakusa side story and daishou side story tba


End file.
